Hatsuyuki
by Mirei E.C
Summary: A missing scene from Ruki and Renamon's early story arc, post IceDevimon.


Hatsuyuki

* * *

The title means "first snow."

This fic is dedicated to aptasi, who does not write Digimon, but if she did, it would be the best Digimon fic you'd ever read.

* * *

The early evening air was deliciously cold. After a day of unwilling shopping with her mother – of overcrowded and overheated shopping malls and department stores, of noxiously perfumed sales people and their empty smiling, of gratuitous lace and wasteful ruffles – the clear breeze that swept  
through the garden in the dying light of a wasted afternoon was a welcome discomfort, like a pinch to wake you from a bad dream.

Ruki slipped into her room to retrieve a coat, then settled herself on the veranda, her breath a cottony cloud before her. It was the first truly cold day in late autumn. It had rained last night, and now the temperature had dropped below freezing. The result was that the grass and shrubs and trees were all covered in a delicate, sugary icing. The sun was setting in a lavender haze, and suddenly the garden was bathed in rosy light, playing off the white branches prettily. A sharp piece of moon glowed faintly to the southeast.

Without really thinking, Ruki looked around for her digimon. She didn't see her, but of course that didn't necessarily mean she wasn't there.

It seemed odd to Ruki now that she had considered Renamon to be only an artificial life form, not so long ago. Because she fit so perfectly into the natural beauty of the traditional garden. Her sleek form prowling along the rooftop, the golden blush of her fur behind the maple trees. How could she have ever considered this fox spirit to be an empty collection of data? She was so alive. On a day like this, Renamon seemed infinitely more alive than her. More real.

Ruki tried to enjoy the sunset by herself, but she kept finding herself glancing around for her partner,  
disappointed that she was not enjoying the peaceful evening with her. The girl started to cast about her own mind for an excuse to call her digimon, then shook herself angrily. Takato and Jenrya, they lived with their digimon so easily. They would never need an excuse to be with them, to spend time with them. (Not that those two would ever watch a sunset.)

Why couldn't she?

"Renamon?"

The word was little more than a whisper. Anyone eavesdropping would simply think she was muttering to herself. A heartbeat later, and suddenly there was a shadow where before there had been none.

"Ruki."

So stoic. Not emotionless, but disciplined. It was the voice of someone who had dedicated their entire life to the battlefield.

The girl faltered. Maybe Renamon did not want to be bothered right now. What if she wanted to be alone? It was unnerving – although they had been together some time now, she didn't really know Renamon's personality. Because she had treated her as a slave, as something to be used and thrown away when done. "Um, I-I was just watching the sunset. It's so pretty – I was just hoping you were enjoying it too."

"Indeed I was, Ruki." Her voiced sounded different somehow, and Ruki felt her pulse quicken. Was she angry?

"Oh. Ok, well –"

"Shall we watch it together?" Renamon covered the ground between them in one silken motion, sat on her haunches next to her on the veranda.

"Ah, sure!" Ruki cringed at the sound of her own voice. But did that mean she wasn't mad?

"Are you warm enough, Ruki?" Her ice crystal eyes scanned the girl's simple jacket. She was always looking out for her. Even when Ruki had been horrible to her. She felt the now-familiar ache of guilt once again. There were times when she felt it was eating her alive.

"Yeah, I'm good." _Plus I have my mortifying embarrassment to keep me warm…_

Renamon didn't argue (she never did), and the two watched the day come to rest in companionable silence. The remains of the sunset faded like embers turning to ash, and the moon glowed brighter. Ruki wondered how she could learn to be a friend to this creature at her side. The truth was she had never been a friend to anyone, and no one had ever been hers. And yet Renamon had given her everything, right from the beginning. It couldn't possibly be enough to just say "You're my friend." Ruki had learned a long time ago how empty words could be.

Renamon inhaled slightly, as if about to speak, and Ruki waited with bated breath.

"_Achoo!_"

The girl gave a nervous yip of laughter – she had never witnessed Renamon doing something so mundane and unguarded as a sneeze – but then immediately sobered. It was getting really cold lately; it must have been taking its toll on her, even with her lovely fur coat.

"Renamon! Are you ok?" The girl peered at her vulpine companion deeply, trying to discern the signs of illness in her alien countenance.

Renamon rubbed her delicate nose with the back of her violet sleeve, appearing almost bashful. "Yes, of course. It seems even digital life forms are not immune to the changing of the seasons…"

Ruki could hear now that the difference in her digimon's voice sounded like congestion. Without thinking, she pressed her hand to the kitsune's velvet forehead. "Do you have a fever?"

Renamon didn't quite pull away, but her eyes widened at the unexpected contact. The girl realized her own transgression then, and hastily pulled away. "Sorry – I just – you feel fine." She could feel the color rising in her cheeks and averted her eyes, seemingly fascinated by the hedges to the side of the veranda.

"Why are you apologizing?" the fox asked with a distinct note of mischief in her tone. It was the first time Ruki had said sorry to her for anything, big or small.

Ruki couldn't meet her gaze. "It's my fault you got sick. I didn't even think about you out here in the cold and wet…" she recited to the hedges. It wasn't exactly the answer to Renamon's question, but it was still the truth.

This time it was Renamon who bridged the distance between them, gently laying a snowy paw on the young girl's shoulder. "Ruki…I'm not ill. It's just a runny nose. Digimon can't catch human viruses. And I am more than equipped to deal with any kind of weather in this world. If you knew what the Digital World was like, you would understand how…comfortable…this one is in comparison."

Ruki forced herself to look at her now, the rawness of her guilt in full view. "But –" She couldn't finish, the words jumbled in a knot in her throat. She balled her fists in frustration. Renamon watched in patient silence. She knew what was in the girl's heart, that she was trying desperately to change what had been into something new, the long period of enmity between them. In turn, Renamon wanted to tell this fragile soul that her friendship, in and of itself, was all she craved. She didn't need any token gestures or gifts; just knowing that Ruki cared enough about her to want to make up for her earlier coldness warmed her to the core. But like Ruki, Renamon did not know how to word this in such a way that would not be repugnant, or terrifying, to her partner.

"Renamon!" Ruki had finally found her tongue. "You'll stay in my room tonight, ok?"

The fox spirit blinked.

"My mom is away on a shoot all week, and Grandma never goes into my room without knocking first, so it'll be fine!"

"Ruki…that's really not necessary…"

"Even if you can't catch cold, I don't want you to be uncomfortable! It's going to be freezing tonight, you know." Ruki once more looked away, her cheeks by now were the color of peonies. "If you don't want to use my room, I might be able to sneak you into my mom's…"

"I would be honored to be a guest in your room, Ruki."

"Oh, Renamon…you're no guest. This is your home – you should feel – I want you to feel…"

The fox found that her breath had been stolen away, leaving her no way to voice the happiness that bloomed inside her at hearing those words.

Ruki abruptly leapt up. "I'll get you set up!" she announced, a little too brightly, wiping suspiciously at her eyes.

Renamon hovered in the doorway, watching her tamer lay out a futon, then sheets and a thick, warm quilt. She felt oddly uncomfortable watching the girl, knowing she was the object of her intention and consideration. The Digital World was truly a different place. There was no kindness there, no such thing as friendship or camaraderie. Meeting Gillmon and Terriermon, watching them interact with their tamers, had been her primer in love. This was the first time Ruki, or anyone else, had ever shown her this kind of consideration. And now she had butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

"Ok," Ruki announced at length, "all set."

She had put Renamon's futon a respectful distance from her own, but still next to hers. Renamon had expected to be placed in a corner or along a wall, and felt her butterflies intensify.

Ruki looked up at her digimon, then just as quickly looked away. "I'll make you some tea." The girl fled the room. Renamon wondered if her own apprehension was rubbing off on her.

The fox gingerly sat upon the palette, reflexively sniffing the linens. They smelled of laundry soap and fabric softener, the artificial scents that humans were so fond of. She had never slept on a bed before; she usually made herself at home in the branches of the sheltering trees in the courtyard. The Digital World had taught her how to live off the land, how to make a bivouac in even the most inhospitable environs. And yet none of that had prepared her for the prospect of sleeping on a soft futon, in a warm and dry room, with her very own friend to attend to her.

The human girl re-entered, carrying a tray with a steaming pot of tea and two cups.

Ruki poured for them both, still keeping her eyes down, demure as a new bride in days of old.

At last Renamon could take no more, this uncharacteristically shy and silent Ruki – this was not her tamer at all. If remorse or shame had changed this brave fighter into the ghost girl before her, then the kitsune would not let it be.

"Ruki," she crouched by the girl, captured her gaze. "Ruki, you don't have to make anything up to me, you know."

Ruki inhaled sharply, clearly caught off guard. She lost her hold on her cup momentarily, and the boiling hot tea sloshed over the side, burning the trembling hands that held it. The girl yelped in pain and surprise and embarrassment, the cup thudding to the floor.

In the space of a heartbeat, Renamon had scooped up the fallen porcelain and taken the girl's hand in her own massive claw. She had torn enemies, limb from limb, with those talons; now she rubbed her partner's scorched hand with all the gentleness in the world. She didn't often encounter opportunities to be physically close to Ruki; she was not like Jenrya Li and Takato Matsuda, who allowed seemingly endless touch and proximity with their partners. Renamon unconsciously sighed.

"Nothing will come of mourning the past. You and I both had to overcome our illusions, in order to be true partners."

Ruki stared at their still entwined hands. "I was so horrible to you."

"I understand why you were. I know your heart, Ruki. We are _so_ much alike. We both used each other, as a means to an end."

"Renamon…I-" The girl was almost trembling with emotion. That was the secret to Ruki – her cold façade was a mask to the wellspring of feeling beneath, so many disparate tides with no outlet.

"Go on. You can tell me anything."

"Renamon…you've always, always been my friend. I want to be your friend too. I'll take care of you… so you can trust me now."

The kitsune lowered her wedge-shaped head and rubbed her forehead against the girl's, an almost feline gesture of affection. "Thank you, Ruki…_partner_."

She expected Ruki to rebuff her, to pull away or tell her to 'cut it out.' But the girl allowed the contact, shivered once, then was still. And so they sat like that for an unknown eternity. Outside, the first snow began to fall.


End file.
